


Steamy & Sore

by Kiiratam



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-31 05:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiratam/pseuds/Kiiratam
Summary: Yang is relaxing in the sauna when Blake walks in.Takes place between Volumes 1 and 2. (My BMBLB fic index)





	Steamy & Sore

"You're still up?" Blake had expected the sauna to be empty at this time of night. Had kind of counted on it, since she wasn't wearing anything under her towel.

  
Yang started, nearly falling off the bench. Apparently, she _wasn't_ still up. Or hadn't been. She caught herself on the edge of the bench, and stood up, holding her towel on. Apparently, even just-awake Yang remembered how much her towel liked to fall off. Blake was somehow disappointed by that.

  
"Blake! Um, hi!?" Yang looked around, probably for her scroll. Blake didn't see it anywhere. Probably in Yang's locker. " ... Do you know what time it is? I must have dozed off." She looked so odd with her hair wrapped in a towel.

  
"About eleven. Did you just come straight here after dinner?" They'd all split up when leaving the dining hall. Ruby rushing off to the weapons workshop with a new idea, Weiss to the library to find sources for a paper, and Yang had just wandered off. Blake had just people-watched, and sketched, and wrote a bit, sitting on the green. At least until it got dark, and everyone else went back to their dorms. Then she'd just sat and watched the moonrise, sitting on the airship docks. Allowed herself to feel sad for a boy who had never really existed.

  
"Nah, I went to the gym. Worked out some aggression on the weights, slugged the bag, did a few laps." Yang sat back down, wincing a bit. "I did a lot of stumbling on the track; it would have been embarrassing if anyone else was there. I may have pulled something."

  
"Want me to take a look?" Why did she push herself so hard?

  
Yang looked uneasy for a minute. "I'm... kind of just in my towel." She looked down at it, fidgeting with the corner. Blake waited, expecting the inevitable flirty remark. And it didn't come. Yang must still be groggy, or just wiped out. That had to be it.

  
"We _do_ live together, you know." If Yang wasn't going to do it, Blake would have to. "Besides, what were you doing, beating up the bag with your boobs?" She took a few steps closer, focusing on Yang's face and her big eyes. "I can be a professional. And I do know _something_ about treating strained muscles." Blake wasn't just saying that. Though she'd rather not dwell on what most of her massages had led to.

  
Looking back at her, Yang slowly nodded. "Okay." She turned sideways on the bench, crooking one leg in front of her. Yang gathered her towel in front of herself, exposing her back. And most of her side, and other parts that Blake resolutely refused to pay attention to at all, because if she started thinking about Yang's hips...

  
_ Breathe in, think pure thoughts, hold it, like kittens and songbirds and flowers, breathe out, don't think about pussies and tits and unfolding blossoms of womanhood. ...I suck at this._

  
If Yang just had a giant bruise on her back, or a dislocated shoulder or _something_ that would be distracting and incredibly helpful.

  
_Great, now I want Yang to be hurt because I can't control my own thoughts. I've gone from horny to sadistic. That's an _amazingly helpful_ mental connection to make._

  
Blake swallowed, hoping the silence hadn't made things weird. She sat down behind Yang, shaking her hands to loosen them up. "I don't see anything obvious. Does it hurt anywhere in particular?"

  
Shaking herself a bit, Yang tested out the muscles of her back, rolling her shoulders one at a time, leaning a bit to one side, than the other, twisting...

  
_Moon and stars, work with me here! Yang just said something, and I didn't even hear her. Focus, darn it!_

  
"...I'm sorry, Yang. I zoned out for a moment. Where?"

  
"Umm, lower back. And neck a bit, but that's pretty normal. Most everything else is fine now." Yang held up a hand, wriggling her fingers. "Apart from the pruning."

  
_Right, she's been in here a while now._ "Did you want to go to another room? I think they have an actual massage table... somewhere in here."

  
"No thanks. If it's anything like the one at Signal,_ so many_ people have had sex there. Are probably having sex there right now."

  
_Yang, please. I'm trying **not** to think about sex._ "Good point." _Change the subject, change the subject._ "How are you doing in Oobleck's class?" _Zero sex in history. Safe topic. Good choice, me._ Blake reached out and started gently kneading Yang's back with her knuckles, staying vertical and close to the spine. Just trying to get a feel for her tenseness.

  
"Fine. I'm kind of annoyed that we just skimmed over all the art stuff, though. I read a book about the re-integration of the anatomical drafters of Mantle into the world artistic tradition. Really interesting stuff."

  
"Oh?" There was a giant knot of tension in Yang's lower back, right above her pelvis. _Clinical terms, yes. Those will help. Not her butt. Pelvis. Pellllllvissssss._

  
Blake saw Yang's head bob. "Oh yeah. Everyone else had started to go all experimental, playing with color and abstract shapes. But the art coming out of Mantle after war - well, Atlas - it just blew everyone's mind. Not just the artistic community, everyone."

  
What had Yang done to herself? Hip-tossed a Death Stalker? "Really?"

  
"High quality porn with do that."

  
_Wait, what?_ "What?"

  
"I mean, it made sense. They had only worked on anatomy, so they went with what they knew. The naked human and Faunus form. They just... went crazy with the use of color, and lighting. It's just really fun seeing the contrast of ultra-realistic anatomy and these fantastical spots of color and warmth on top of it. Harder, please."

  
Blake shook her head, refocusing on Yang's back. She put her feet underneath herself, and pushed up on her toes, putting her entire weight behind her hands. Kept trying to untangle the knot. "That doesn't seem like Oobleck's field."

  
"Oh, I know. It's just my best reference for the period, so barely mentioning it was just a-" Yang breathed out heavily.

  
"Are you okay?" Blake let up on the pressure, bracing her hands on the bench.

  
"Oooh, yeah. Don't stop."

  
_If she keeps making noises like that, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to._ But Blake set back to work immediately._ It's just the sauna, I'm just adjusting to the temperature and moisture. That's why I feel so warm._ She kept telling herself that for the next several minutes, listening to Yang's slow breathing and little grunts of satisfaction. _Moans of pleasure. Grunts. Of. Satisfaction. Focus!_

  
"You're really good at this."

  
"Thanks." _Just tell her._ "I've had lots of practice."

  
"What, does the White Fang have massage parties after every mission?"

  
"Not... exactly." Blake could feel the exact moment Yang made the realization, and cursed at herself. She should have known what it would do to Yang. Now she'd made Yang more tense than she was when they'd started.

  
_Idiot. So busy chasing my own healing that I hurt everyone else. I haven't changed. I just moved. I'm just hurting new, different people._

  
Yang turned around, spinning her back out of Blake's reach. No big loss. Blake hadn't helped anyway. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed." And now she was apologizing for something Blake had brought up in the first place. She was too good to Blake. Yang deserved better.

  
"It's fine. I can keep going." _At least let me fix my latest mistake._

  
Blake tried to keep her face impassive as Yang looked at her. _I don't deserve your concern. Stop worrying about my feelings. I'm fine. I'm **fine**._

  
_ Breathe in, hold it, breathe out._

  
"Okay." Yang nodded, and turned back around. _Please, show me your back. It'll be better if you just walk away. Stop caring about me. I'm not safe to be around._

  
Blake got back to work. Just focusing on her hands, and the tenseness in the back. Not Yang's. It was easier if it wasn't. Blake could stop caring about anything but her work. 'Here's a problem; fix it.' Nice, uncomplicated. No history, no memories, no pain but what she was taking out.

  
She closed her ears, just listening to the slow venting of steam. Shut out everything else. Just present tension and slow, inevitable release.

  
Time fuzzed out she worked, hidden by the steam and her focus.

  
But she'd done it. Placing her hand flat on the back, she patted twice.

  
"Blake, you're _amazing_. Thank you."

  
"You're welcome." Automatic responses. Politeness. Civility. Distance.

  
"Your turn." ...That wasn't how this went. Professional or what she'd done a lot more of. "Give me a second to get my towel on." Blake set her hands in her lap and looked down at them. For some reason, she expected them to be shaking, and they weren't.

  
She vaguely noticed Yang standing up and rewrapping her towel around herself. She was so pretty. Beautiful. Magnificent. She should date an artist. Someone who could show the world how wonderful she was.

  
Yang reached her arms up, stretching, and making contented noises as her joints popped. Her towel decided it had done enough, and fell off.

  
Blake covered her eyes, trying desperately not to snicker. She wasn't sure if it just the way Yang wrapped her towel, or if it was just there being too much Yang for any poor towel to manage. Or, at this point, if Yang was doing it on purpose.

  
"Have you considered getting a bathrobe? It might work better."

  
"Yeah, but I can't dry off with a bathrobe, so I'd have to have a towel anyway."

  
"Given your problems, I think more layers would be better." At least so far as Yang's embarrassment went.

  
"Maybe." Blake heard Yang sit down behind her. "Where do you want me?"

  
_ Yang, why?_ At least Yang was behind her, and couldn't see her blushes. "Anywhere is fine." Blake tried to force herself to relax. She'd been trying to do it for years, and it worked... just not when someone was actually touching her.

  
At least Yang didn't say anything about it. Just started gently kneading away. Not saying anything else. Blake sighed, let her shoulders slump a bit. She loved that Yang could just... let silence be. She didn't have to listen to herself talk constantly, or let other people verbally fellate her. She could just... exist, and not need to drive the quiet away. It was relaxing. Ruby and Weiss didn't seem to get it. Not that Blake had tried to explain it. Ruby was always listening to music, and her headphones were good but not so good that Blake couldn't still pick up on it. Not that it was Ruby's fault. And Weiss - Weiss was too intense for silence. She filled it with ...just a sense that she was about to speak, and you'd better be quiet and wait for her to speak. Not that Blake really felt the need to obey the Schnee Presence.

  
Blake winced, and Yang's hand's lifted away instantly. "Too hard?"

  
"Just a sore spot."

  
Yang started again, carefully avoiding where she'd been. Slowly working down Blake's back, pushing a little harder to make herself felt through Blake's towel. She didn't ask Blake to take her towel off. Just compensated for it, made the extra effort. Blake closed her eyes, and leaned back into Yang's touch. She didn't deserve this. It felt good, and she wanted more. But she didn't deserve it.


End file.
